


Schadenfreude

by MissNaya



Series: Blurry (Extended) [3]
Category: DCU
Genre: Anal Fingering, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, One-Sided Attraction, Phone Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26363947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNaya/pseuds/MissNaya
Summary: After being rejected by Bruce, a spurned Jason contacts the one person he knows who can give him what he needs.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Roman Sionis/Jason Todd
Series: Blurry (Extended) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/718284
Comments: 13
Kudos: 184





	Schadenfreude

**Author's Note:**

> this was another sponsored fic! thanks to anon for the idea! they wanted a continuation to Verschlimmbessern, and I was all too happy to provide.
> 
> this fic is not officially canon to the main Blurry storyline! it's just a fun what-if. think of it like an Elseworld! :) hope you enjoy.

Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Jason knows it’s a mistake the second he makes a move, but by then, it’s too late to stop it. It’s like he’s trapped in his own body, like he doesn’t belong to himself anymore.

But then, that’s not a particularly new feeling. Not after the last few months.

Not the point. The point is, he’s got his arms around Bruce’s shoulders, and in T-minus 1 second, their lips are going to collide.

0.5 seconds.

0.00001 second.

_Fuck._ It happens. It happens, and Jason’s the one instigating, and he’s so, so painfully _stupid._

He isn’t surprised when Bruce’s whole body goes rigid beneath his arms. Not surprised, but still, somehow, a little hurt when he feels just how stone-cold Bruce is. How tense. How _disgusted._

And it’s at that moment that Jason says to himself, _fuck it,_ and deepens the kiss, scraping Bruce’s lips with his teeth, maybe as revenge. Revenge for not looking at him the way he wants him to. That makes him the worst kind of person, doesn’t it?

But, selfishly, he lets it last, drags the kiss on for a few more seconds. In one small show of mercy, Bruce doesn’t push him away first. He only shoves at Jason’s chest after Jason pulls back, his hands like two brick walls.

“Jason,” he starts.

“I know.” Jason’s arms are already down, hands shoved into his pockets. His forced smile doesn’t meet his eyes. “I know.”

“I’m not—”

“I know, okay?!” Jason can’t help but snap, and now he’s the openly tense one, practically arched like an angry cat. “It’s— It’s fine, alright? I get it. You don’t have to—” He runs a hand through his hair with a wince. “—to say it.”

Suddenly, he finds he can’t meet Bruce’s eyes.

He waits for him to say something. Or, at least, he thinks he does. The moment feels like it stretches out for half a lifetime, and he knows what that amount of time feels like, thank you very much. So he’s the one to break the silence, stepping backward toward his bike.

“...Bye, Bruce.”

Bruce does nothing but stare two holes into his back in dreadful, ear-piercing silence.

—

His thumbs tremble as they dial a number he couldn’t forget if he tried.

This safehouse is a shithole, but it’s far enough away from Wayne Manor that Jason feels comfortable. Well, comfortable is stretching it. Less like he’s jumping out of his skin, is more like it.

Not that pressing the call button is helping that feeling any. But, much like kissing Bruce, Jason does it anyway. He does it like a zombie, because he’s useless, isn’t he? Some fearless crime lord he is. What a joke.

Gripping his phone so hard that his fingers go white, Jason listens to the phone ring. He could hang up. Forget this mistake ever happened. He should. He _will._

“ _Jason._ ”

He doesn’t.

He doesn’t speak, either, not for a few moments. Just sits there in silence, that silence that he hates so much.

(So much of it around the manor, with Bruce sharing looks with practically everyone else _around_ Jason, but never looking directly _at_ him. Just silence and staring, and conversations being had behind his back. He can only imagine what they’ve all said.)

Finally, when the silence is just on the other side of unbearable, Roman says, “ _If you’re quite finished wasting my time_ —”

“Roman.”

Another silence. This one quick, just a short burst of it, like a flood of ice cubes down your back. Then, Roman’s voice, even colder:

“ _You know what to call me._ ”

Jason sits there for another indecipherably long few moments, one hand on his phone, the other over his face. As if that does anything. As if it can block out the shame of running back to Roman with his tail between his legs the moment the going gets rough.

There’s a short breath, like Roman’s about to say something else. Jason pierces the silence first, with a soft precision. Less stinging ice, more slow-spreading poison.

“...Daddy.”

The smile he can hear dripping in Roman’s voice is just as venomous.

“ _Good boy._ ”

Bruce is listening. Jason knows it for a fact. He may have gotten out from under his roof, but he’s not truly free of his surveillance. He’s not _that_ stupid, even if all signs point to the contrary. He knows when he’s been bugged.

And he knows when he isn’t trusted.

So he got pulled off the Black Mask case. Okay. Big deal.

(Really big deal. Like, colossally big deal. A big enough deal that fucking Batman had to bench the Red Hood off his own damn case. _My city, my rules. You’ve clearly gotten too personally invested in this case. Blah blah Stockholm Syndrome, blah blah blah._

As if he’s some victim. As if he’s not just criminally fucking stupid, the kind of stupid who tries to kiss _Batman,_ and, oh, by the way, did we forget to mention, used to be Bruce Wayne’s adopted son? _That_ kind of stupid.)

But anyway. Victim, no way. Incompetent at his job? Definitely not. No matter what bullshit happened between him and Roman, he’s still a damn good detective. And a great fucking shot, for that matter. There was no reason not to continue to operate in Gotham City, or anywhere else.

_No. It’s too dangerous right now. You should lay low._

Blah, blah, fucking blah.

But Jason stayed put and did what he was told, because what else could he do by then? Resist, and have Bruce feel even more confident in his idea that Jason was some loose cannon who couldn’t be trusted? No way.

He’d been good. Honestly, he had. So damn fucking good that he’d resented the bugs since the second he found them, hidden so well that anyone without Jason’s training would never find them. From the day Bruce pulled him off the case, he’d been expecting this.

It’s a betrayal. Jason knows it is. But, when he thinks about Bruce’s cold blue eyes staring at him, at those pale lips pressing into a thin line and going quiet the second he enters the room, he finds he can’t bring himself to care.

No. Right now, the only thing he cares about is the person on the other end of the line.

“ _Been a while, baby,_ ” Roman coos, his voice sending a shock of goosebumps up the back of Jason’s neck. “ _You walked out on me so suddenly. I’m still not sure what I did._ ”

What a lie. Roman knows exactly what happened. He knows how deeply he sunk his claws into Jason, he knows that Batman found out and got jealous. Hell, he knows Jason used to be Robin, thanks to his own fucking loose tongue. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to puzzle out that Batman doesn’t like supervillains touching his things.

Corrupting them.

_Breaking_ them.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Jason opens his mouth.

“I don’t wanna talk about that,” he says, and it’s true. Probably the truest thing he’s said in a long time.

“ _Then what do you wanna talk about?_ ”

Roman sounds too open to conversation. Too inviting. Jason expected anger, hatred, something more negative after Jason essentially ran out on him in favor of sticking by the Batman’s side. It gives Jason the impression that they’re playing a game, and he doesn’t like that.

So why doesn’t he hang up the phone?

Ignoring that ever-present question, he swallows a lump in his throat. “I was hoping you would have some ideas.”

There’s a little puff of air, a tiny exhale, like an aborted chuckle. Jason tries to imagine the disfigured sneer of a smirk that undoubtedly goes with it.

“ _You always were so needy, weren’t you? But Daddy can only help you out if you tell him what it is that you need._ ”

Half a sour grin worms its way onto Jason’s face. “Weren’t you always going off about how you know what I need better than I know myself?”

Roman hums. Jason imagines him in his desk chair, leisurely swiveling back and forth. He wonders what Roman is wearing; a suit, no doubt, but what kind? Italian? French? With the blood red tie, he wonders, or the pitch black? Probably with those crystal skull cufflinks he’s always been fond of…

“ _Oh, Jason,_ ” Roman says, and Jason snaps out of that line of thought. “ _I have a few ideas. But I want to hear from_ you _for once what it is you want. That’s one of the things you always bugged me about, isn’t it? You want me to listen. So I’m listening._ ”

Jason remembers those conversations a little differently. Less “bugging Roman to listen,” more “telling Roman that he’s not a mind reader and could stand to stop making so many god damn assumptions all the time.” But whatever. He’ll let it go.

It’s just that… Well, now that the ball is in his court, he’s not entirely sure what to do with it. Jason opens his mouth, but only a frustrated exhale comes out.

“I don’t… I—” he finally starts, just in time for Roman to cut him off.

“ _Are you naked?_ ”

Jason clamps his mouth shut. That was blunt. But he expects blunt from Roman, so, on automatic, he answers, “No.”

Roman scoffs. “ _Well, what are you waiting for? Get naked._ ”

“Roman, I’m not—”

“ _Get naked or I’m hanging up._ ” The silence between them stretches on for miles. “ _And for that matter, address me properly._ ”

Jason licks his lips. He bites his tongue hard enough to hurt.

“...Yes, Daddy.”

“ _Good boy._ ”

God. How is it that Roman can seem so sweet, even when he’s so vulgar? Jason puts the phone down next to him and pulls off his sweater. His shirt comes next, followed by his pants, then his underwear and socks. He tosses them all off the bed, doesn’t care about the mess.

Unhidden now, he has to face the reality that his cock is hard. He tries not to look at it as he lays down, picking the phone back up.

“‘Kay.”

“ _Okay what?_ ”

Jason huffs. “Okay, I’m naked. But this isn’t really what I—”

“ _Shhh._ ” Roman’s voice is hypnotic, and Jason shuts up immediately. “ _Where are you? Are you alone?_ ”

Jason thinks about that. He thinks about the bug in his phone, the one he’d have to take the thing apart to remove. Wonders if Bruce is actively listening.

“...Yes,” he says. “I’m in bed. By myself.”

“ _Good,_ ” Roman says. Jason can’t tell if Roman believes him. “ _Good boy. I miss that body of yours, Red… Miss how you feel around me._ ”

Jason screws his eyes shut. It’s a bad idea, because without his safehouse to look at, his mind has to fill in the gaps, and it chooses to show Jason the most prominent things on his mind: Roman, and Bruce. Bruce, stone-faced, staring at him while he talks with Roman, like a puppet on a string.

_“I miss you, too,”_ Jason almost says.

Almost.

Instead, he says, “Tell me what to do. Just— Just tell me.”

It’s a hair’s breadth away from begging. But it’s not begging, it’s _not,_ he tells himself; he’s the one in control here. He _is._

He could hang up at any time.

But then Roman says “ _Touch yourself_ ,” and Jason’s hand is moving.

“Where?” he asks. “My chest? My legs…?”

Roman rumbles out a little growl that makes Jason’s stomach clench in the best way. “ _Pinch those nipples for me, son. Nice and hard._ ”

Jason inhales slowly and purposefully. He licks his lips and bites his tongue as his fingers find his nipple and pinch hard. Though he tries to keep himself quiet, he can’t help but make tiny grunting noises into the phone with every rough pinch. He doesn’t go easy on himself; doesn’t deserve that leniency. By the time he’s done, he’s panting, nipples red and puffy, little crescent marks embedded into them from the curve of his nails.

When Roman next speaks, his voice is an octave or two lower.

“ _Now touch your cock._ ”

Jason scrapes blunt nails down the front of his body, stopping at the patch of hair between his legs so he can snatch up his cock. “Nnh, yeah. How?”

“ _You know how I like it_ ,” Roman tells him. “ _Nice and rough. Squeeze yourself. Make_ my _cock sore, little Red, go on._ ”

The sudden possessiveness in Roman’s tone sends an electric shock down Jason’s body. He has to wonder if Roman knows, if he’s aware of how bug-happy the Bat is. Wonders if Roman has been seething the entire time.

He squeezes down hard on his cock. It pushes a ragged groan up out of his lungs, low and scratchy.

“ _That’s it,_ ” Roman growls into the phone. “ _You have lube?_ ”

“I—” Jason sits up on an elbow, blowing his bangs out of his face as they flop there, heavy with sweat. He reaches over to fish one-handed in the drawers on his bedside table, but all he finds are knives and ammo. “No…”

“ _Good._ ”

Roman certainly sounds like the cat that got the cream. There’s something dangerous in his tone, something Jason knows well, and it makes him bend like a tree ready to snap under the assault of gale-force winds.

“ _Jason,_ ” Roman continues, “ _I want you to spit in your hand. Get those fingers as wet as you can… Because you’re going to shove them up your ass. Three of them. Go._ ”

Jason spends a minute just opening and closing his mouth, squeezing his cock hard, feeling it throb in his hand. He finally hears Roman growl, and forces out an, “Okay, okay, yeah.”

Making sure to make noise so Roman can tell he’s doing it, Jason slicks his fingers up, sucking messily. He shoves them into his throat until he gags, feeling that thick back of the throat spit coat his skin. Perfect.

With the phone pressed between his face and the pillow, Jason snakes his hand down between his legs. It’s trembling. He hasn’t done anything like this in so long… As if he can read his mind, Roman chooses that moment to speak up.

“ _What’s the matter, son? Out of practice?_ ” he asks. “ _And here I thought the Bat would be making good use of his loyal little soldier…_ ”

Jason clenches his jaw hard enough that his teeth audibly click. Something in his eyes darkens as he stares up at the ceiling.

“No,” he says. “No, he isn’t.”

“ _Poor thing,_ ” Roman coos. “ _No wonder you’re so desperate. No one’s been giving you what you need… But that’s alright. That’s why you called me, isn’t it, baby?_ ”

Jason nods before he realizes Roman can’t see him. He’s slipping; fuck.

“Yes,” he gasps. “Yeah, that’s it. Daddy, please—”

“ _Are you fucking yourself yet?_ ”

Jason stops. He looks down between his legs, where his trembling hand is still poised beneath his cock. “No—”

“ _Then get to it._ ” Roman’s voice, like he’s speaking through clenched teeth, turns Jason on like nothing else. “ _Don’t keep me waiting, Jason._ ”

That’s it. He has to do it; has to follow Roman’s orders, to shove three fingers in himself like it’s nothing. And it isn’t nothing, not by a long shot, not since he stopped doing this sort of thing after moving to the Manor. It stings, but it hurts so _good,_ and Jason immediately begins to piston his fingers inside himself.

“Yeah,” he whimpers into the phone, brow furrowed, other hand still holding his cock tight enough to make it hurt. “Yeah, please…”

“ _They’re inside?_ ”

Jason nods and licks his lips. “All three of ‘em. All for you, Daddy…”

_All for you. Nothing for Bruce,_ he can’t help but think to himself. Can’t help but imagine, again, stoic Bruce listening to this, hearing him call another man Daddy. Would he still, Jason wonders, be so stone-faced? Or is the irony that something like this has finally gotten him to emote, except it’s when Jason isn’t around to see?

He’s still too in his head. He needs more.

“ _More?_ ” Roman asks, and that’s when Jason realized he said some amount of that last bit out loud. “ _Daddy can give you more, sweet pea. Fuck yourself nice and hard, hit that sweet spot for me… That’s it, Jason, moan for it._ ”

Jason does. God help him, he does, moaning like a slut, letting Roman know exactly what he’s doing to him.

_I can’t believe I’m having fucking phone sex with Black Mask,_ he thinks. _God. Oh fuck, oh god…_

It’s getting hard to think about much of anything now, and that’s just how Jason likes it. He wants to get out of his head, wants all images of Bruce to be replaced by Roman. Wants it to be like it used to be, in the basement, when Roman took him to that special place no one else has been able to get him to…

“Please,” he says, lower lip trembling. “ _Please,_ Daddy. Please, oh god…”

“ _What do you want, baby?_ ” Roman asks him. “ _Tell Daddy what it is you want._ ”

“W-wanna come,” Jason admits, flushed to his ears. “Want you to make me come. Oh, Daddy, _please…_ ”

“ _Keep fucking yourself,_ ” Roman tells him. “ _Nice and hard, the way Daddy likes. Wish you were here to bounce in my fucking lap, you little slut,_ ngh _…_ ”

And that’s when Jason realizes that Roman is absolutely getting off to this just as much as he is. He pictures him with his cock in his hand, stark pale against his open black suit, jerking off at his office desk with the Gotham skyline behind him. The mental image makes him fucking _drool,_ and he helplessly moans, starting to stroke his cock in time with the way he moves his fingers.

“Daddy,” he moans, and this time, no matter who’s listening, he only thinks of Roman. “ _Daddy—_ ”

“ _That’s it_ ,” Roman growls. “ _Come for me. Come for me, you rotten, two-timing fucking_ whore _, come with your fingers in your ass like the cockslut you are._ ”

Jason’s voice rockets to an embarrassingly high pitch, and he arches his back as thick ropes of cum shoot up over his bare chest. He works himself with his fingers until it hurts, the way Roman would, giving himself no time to sit back and relax after his orgasm. Just keeps going until his wrist cramps and his voice cracks, at which point he finally stills his aching hands.

Through the phone, he can hear the speeding up of a _thp-thp-thp_ sort of sound, skin slapping against skin and cloth. Roman groans low in his throat, sending orgasmic aftershocks through Jason’s body. Then he’s panting, too, the pair of them deep in post-coital bliss, miles away and yet still right beside each other.

“ _...I knew,_ ” Roman says, once his breathing evens out, “ _that you were still my good little boy._ ”

Jason lies there in silence until the line goes dead.

**Author's Note:**

> find more from me [HERE.](https://linktr.ee/herecomesnaya)


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